


No Happy Ending

by owlaholic68



Series: Greek Mythology AU [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Angst, Backstory, F/M, Orpheus and Eurydice Myth, Underworld, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 11:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: The Courier was not the first to enter the Underworld. Eons ago, another made the perilous journey in search of his lost love.Or, how Dean Domino became the ferryman of the realm of death.





	No Happy Ending

She was gone. 

That was all that Dean could think. The only words that kept repeating in his brain, even as the temple burned around him, even as people screamed and died. He even ignored his own horrific injuries in the depths of his grief.

Vera was gone.

And she was never coming back. The Wordless One had her now, and there was nothing he could do about it. So Dean left the ruins of the once-glorious temple. He started walking with only his lyre under his arm, a sick reminder of the intoxicating fame he had once known. 

As he walks, he thinks about Vera, his lost love.  _ We were so close, only for her to suddenly be taken from me by a damned fire.  _

Whispers start tickling his ears, murmurs of ideas, of plans. Dean was never one to give up so easily.  _ Not even Death can stop you _ , the wind whispers.  _ There is always a way, that’s what Vera would have said,  _ the grass sighs.  _ Can’t you accomplish it? Aren’t you the best?  _ His ego conspiratorially hisses.

Dean has heard rumors of a chasm that can bring even a mortal directly to the shadowy realm of death. After weeks of searching, after weeks of charming inns into giving him free meals, he finds it. Now, with his toes on the edge and the wind whipping his robes, he clutches his ebony lyre to his chest, closes his eyes, and lets himself fall. 

_ Just like I fell for her, I fall for her again.  _

* * *

The realm of death is dark and silent. Even the soft crunch of Dean’s sandals on the gravel path seems muffled. He only walks for a few minutes before coming to a river, a broken-down dock holding hundreds of shadowy half-transparent figures. 

He pushes through the figures until he reaches the end of the dock, where a small rowboat bobs in the water. Another shadowy figure sits in the boat, a pair of oars in its hands, a dark wispy cloak over its head.

“Pardon me,” Dean says, putting one foot in the boat, “could you ferry me to the other side?” The figure in the boat just shakes its head, face blank and glowing green eyes unseeing. Dean shivers. “I’m serious, pal. I really need to get over there.” The figure just stares at him impassively. 

Dean swallows hard and lifts his lyre, fingers experimentally strumming the strings.  _ I was blessed by the Muses. I can influence and charm whoever I want. It’s time to put my skills to work.  _ He starts playing, head bent over his instrument. 

At first, the figure seems unmoved. But as Dean begins to sing, his voice dark and filled with longing, the shadow waves a hand and beckons him to sit down in the boat. Dean adds flattery and pleas to his lyrics, until the shadow takes his oars and begins rowing. 

Though he feels pride at his musical skills, Dean still feels empty, his heart heavy and cold.  _ She’s still gone. I still haven’t found her yet.  _ The small boat reaches the other side of the river and he disembarks. Above him on a hill lies a small stone temple, a winding path leading to the doors. 

Dean comes to a gargantuan iron gate. Ghostly figures file one by one through the doors. On either side of the gate, four immense paws stand, leading to a pair of long furry legs. Dean ducks behind one of the pillars at the sight of two enormous dog heads. One is growling, the other is curiously sniffing at the souls that pass between its legs. 

One of the dog heads yawns, revealing teeth twice as long as Dean’s fragile mortal body.  _ Gods, how am I going to get past this one. Neither flattery nor words will work on a savage beast.  _

He lifts his lyre and begins to play, this time coaxing a sweet lullaby from his instrument. He hums a soft tune, listening to the two-headed dog as it yawns again, then snuffles and lies down on the ground, its two massive heads leaning on the top of the gateway. 

Finally, the dog is asleep. Dean continues playing as he quietly ducks underneath its legs and slips away towards the temple. 

Dean has seen many temples, but this one is the most somber and dark that he’s ever laid eyes on. It’s made of dark grey stone speckled with black rock. There are no flashes of color here, same as the rest of the realm. Dean walks through the doors and into a small courtyard. In the center, a dark black pond sits stagnant, not even a lily or other aquatic plant to brighten the room. 

“Halt!” One guard leans next to a doorway. “State your business, mortal. You should not be here.”

“I seek an audience with the Wordless One,” Dean explains. “I seek my lost love, taken from me too soon-”

“Save that for her,” the guard interrupts, opening the door after verifying that Dean is unarmed. “Go in. But keep a civil tongue with her Majesty.”

The throne room is as drab as the rest of the temple, all grey furnishings and hard-looking chairs. At the end of the room is a tall-backed ebony throne, a tall woman sitting stiffly in the seat. 

Dean bows. “Your Majesty the Wordless One, I seek audience with you over a matter of utmost importance to me.” He looks up for confirmation to proceed. The Wordless One is pale and instead of hair on top of her head, a thorny black crown sits. She nods for him to continue. “My love, my sweet Vera, was taken from me too soon, and I desire nothing more than her return.” 

The woman frowns at him. She leans forward in her chair and furrows her brow. 

“I know it’s against the laws of this realm, but I’m willing to do anything for her, please.” Dean feels his face heat up in shame at the begging that he’s being forced to do, but he’s serious. Anything for her. Even if he has to grovel on the floor and kiss this woman’s feet, he’ll do it if it means seeing Vera again.

She stands and walks to him, her pale eyes hard and suspicious. She reaches out a slender arm and touches his lyre, tapping the ebony once, twice.

“You’d like me to play a song for you?” Dean confirms. She nods. 

He steels himself, thinking of his grief, concentrating on channeling his sorrow through his music, through every fiber of his soul. 

O how can I continue to live,

When all that gave my heart

The strength to beat and warm itself

Has been silenced, has been extinguished.

O my heart, my sweet Vera, who

I will follow until I can follow no longer,

How my soul aches for you 

How my eyes weep for you

How I cannot have you by my side. 

O, how two hearts separated by death

Will ache until eternity. 

When he finishes singing, his voice trailing off into a low wail, Dean looks up. The Wordless One is wiping tears from her eyes. 

“You love someone too,” he realizes. She nods and slowly regains her composure. “Someone you are forcibly separated from.” 

She walks over to her throne and rings a small bell. A shadowy attendant ducks into the room, then silently nods, turning away. Confused, Dean waits. He doesn’t have to wait long before the door opens again. 

He gasps, and would have fallen to his knees had the Wordless One not grabbed his elbow to steady him. Vera glides into the room, her white gown fluttering behind her. But Dean notes with horror that her skin is pale grey, her eyes glassy and black. She says nothing.

“She’s not alive,” he notes. “Will she be alive when we get back to the mortal world?” She nods, then takes his shoulders and turns him so his back is facing Vera. He tries to turn back around, but she grabs his face and keeps it facing forward. “One last test,” he guesses, and gets a nod of affirmation. “I can’t look back, or…” 

The Goddess of Death just shakes her head sadly. Dean gulps. “Understood. Thank you.” 

She guides him to a dirt path that leads up and up until it reaches a pinprick of light. He starts walking. At first, his heart overflows with joy. He had succeeded in his mission, he had gone where no other mortal had gone before, he had done what no other could do. 

But halfway up the path, he realizes that he can’t hear Vera’s footsteps. A small seed of doubt gets planted in his mind, and he has to fight the urge to turn around and see if she’s  _ really  _ there.  _ Maybe I was cruelly tricked, and I’m going to leave the Underworld without her. Maybe nobody’s there.  _

He tries to tamp down that worry, but it drags at his feet and whispers doubts in his ear. In front of him, darkness slowly fades to light, and he finds himself facing the entrance to a cave. Out of the mouth, he can see the bright and colorful world of the living. But he can’t hear anything besides his own footsteps on the stone, and his breathing is picking up in panic, because what if he leaves the Underworld and she’s not with him, what will he do without her-

Dean looks back. Vera stares at him, eyes more brown than black, skin more brown than grey. Then, with a wordless cry, she disappears. And Dean just falls to his knees and wails, hands clenched into fists. 

Losing her a second time was even worse than the first. At least the first time wasn’t his fault. 

A hand is on his arm, pulling him up and dragging him back down into darkness. He sags in their grip until he hears the faint sound of rushing water. Only then does he open his eyes and steady himself. The dock with the hundreds of shadowy souls is in front of him. The Wordless One is at his side, frowning and looking disappointed. 

“What now?” Dean asks.  _ What is left for me now?  _

She puts her palm flat on his chest and takes a deep breath. Dean feels something jolt in his heart, then his whole body goes cold and numb as the Wordless One slowly draws a glowing orb of light out of his chest. When it separates from his body, he watches his fingertips turn grey, and the world seems slightly darker. 

His lyre drops from his unfeeling fingers, but she catches it. The glowing orb- his  _ soul _ , he realizes with horror- absorbs into the instrument, leaving the material shiny and faintly glowing with an inner light. 

She leads him to the dock, to the rowboat. The small craft is empty, no spectral boatman in the seat. His heart sinks in understanding, and he climbs in and sits on a seat, taking both oars in his hands. 

And there Dean stays, ferrying silent souls across to the kingdom of death. He doesn't see another living being for eons, until one brave Courier offers him a song in exchange for passage. But even that can’t erase his eternal solitude. Not completely.

**Author's Note:**

> A character backstory that I'd completely forgotten about until now! The Orpheus and Eurydice story has always been one of my favorite Greek myths, and heavily inspired the Underworld chapter of my original fic.
> 
> Dean's song is lightly inspired by Orpheus' aria in the opera l'Orfeo.


End file.
